


Never Asked

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Depression, Dr. Kyoutani, Drunk and Stupid, Future Fic, M/M, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7242856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years into college, his struggles with Kyoutani Kentarou were just a bad memory for Yahaba Shigeru. Five years later, they were all but forgotten.</p>
<p>Until a letter arrived from the Aobajousai Alumni Association for a class reunion. Then it comes back all too quickly, along with a slew of other things he thought he’d left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for Kyouhaba Week. I didn't use any of the prompts because they didn't fit the flow of the story, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway!

_It was bound to happen sooner or later_ _,_ Yahaba thought as he left the grocery store shaking his head. He had only purchased about half of the items on his list, but at this point, he wasn't sure he cared. He just wanted to leave.

That was, only after spending ten minutes or so hiding in the frozen food section to avoid being spotted by Kyoutani, who he had nearly collided with in the meat section.

Yahaba stopped just outside the doors to collect his thoughts, his breathing a little more ragged than he cared to admit and a cold sweat percolating in the palms of his hands. However, when he looked back into the shop through the wide front windows, Yahaba nearly dropped his bags when he made eye contact with a cranky-looking Kyoutani at the register while he was paying for an enormous bag of dog food.

He all but ran to his bus stop.

When he barreled into the house, panting from his desire to enfold himself in regular surroundings after his brush with his high school devil, Yahaba's mother Kaori shot him a concerned glance. "Shigeru, did you miss your bus?"

Shaking his head, Yahaba wheezed, "No, Mom. I just ran from the bus stop. I just . . . wanted to get home."

Taking the bags from her sweaty son's hands, Kaori shot a glare at Yahaba's still-shod feet and left him in the entryway. When he looked down, he noticed a freshly mopped floor everywhere but underneath his feet, where he had completely missed the doormat.

He toed off his shoes with a sigh and headed straight for the linen closet for a towel to clean the mess he had made. All the while, his head was filled with thoughts of someone he was sure he'd left behind along with Aobajousai.

Yahaba Shigeru and Kyoutani Kentarou didn't run in the same circles. Yahaba had been on student council and got the vocal solos in the school choir concerts; Kyoutani had skipped class to smoke behind the building while stuffing his face with fast food. Those things might not have bothered Yahaba had the two of them got along a little better than oil and water.

That had all come to a halt two years ago when Yahaba had graduated with honors and Kyoutani with . . . well, Yahaba wasn't sure how Kyoutani had managed it with his allergy to good attendance. Now Yahaba was over halfway to his accounting and business degrees, and Kyoutani was doing whatever a school-less Kyoutani was wont to do.

After he touched up the dirt he'd tracked in, Yahaba headed to the kitchen to help his mother put away the groceries, almost bumping into every piece of furniture on the way as he wondered what Kyoutani had done with his life since graduation.

It wasn't until he heard the screech of the cat, whose tail he had just maimed with his foot, that Yahaba snapped out of his reverie. Over the refrigerator door, Kaori gave him a hard once-over before she asked, "Are you all right, or did Karupin wrong you in some egregious way?"

Yahaba reddened. "Sorry, Mom. I just, um, bumped into someone I never thought I'd see again and it kind of threw me." He sighed, the sound of his reasoning weak and ridiculous even to his own ears. "I cleaned up the genkan, by the way. Sorry I didn't pay attention."

"Thank you, Shigeru," Kaori said with a short bob of her head. "Did you want anything in particular for dinner?"

Shrugging, Yahaba answered, "Not really. Nothing too heavy, I guess. It's been hot, and I don't want to make myself miserable."

"So, stir fry and fish again." Kaori huffed. "If you don't stop eating nothing but vegetables and rice, I'm just going to start getting those steamer bags for the microwave so the rest of us can eat normal food."

Scowling at the pot of curry paste he was putting in the spice cabinet, Yahaba grumbled, "It is normal food."

Kaori's face softened as she picked up on Yahaba's rumblings. "I know you don't like it when it's hot, but you need to eat different foods to keep your body healthy. If you want, next time you go out, you can pick up an extra fan so you can keep your room a little cooler."

However, Yahaba couldn't help but think his mother was concerned about the wrong thing. It wasn't his diet that had him all out of sorts at the moment; it was the unsolicited run-in with the guy who had made his reign as the Aobajousai volleyball captain a stressful nightmare.

"You remember Kyoutani, right?" he blurted before he realized he didn't want to explain any of this to his mother. These weird feelings, these ancient stresses left behind years ago.

"Of course," Kaori replied as she pulled out the cutting board. "The one you wanted to strangle, right?"

Yahaba nodded. "Yeah, that one. He's who I bumped into at the store. I um —" He shrugged sheepishly. "I might have forgotten some stuff because I panicked and ran to the checkout after I hid in the freezer section."

"Shigeru . . ."

Kaori's heavy sigh lanced through the room. Yahaba knew they were both thinking the same things. The long, sweaty, sleepless nights they had both suffered through as Yahaba had stayed up to nearly midnight every night to finish his homework and studying because he didn't return from practice until well into the evening. The frustration of fighting with someone every day who seemed to want anything but Yahaba to succeed as the team captain. And there was always that lovely panic attack before the Interhighs because Yahaba's best spiker had skipped practice for almost a week to do who-the-hell-knew-what.

"I'm fine, Mom," Yahaba finally said, his voice carrying little reassurance for either of them. "I'll finish the shopping tomorrow. Do you need help with dinner, or can I go work on my paper?"

She shot him a resigned smile. "Go do your homework, Shigeru. You need your sleep, so lights out before midnight, okay?"

Yahaba couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed at his mother's not-so-subtle order. "I will."

Yet at he sped up the stairs to crack open his laptop, Yahaba still couldn't shake that weird feeling in his gut after his earlier encounter.

The feeling he would see Kyoutani again.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Day 2 of Kyouhaba Week.

Yahaba stared at the letter in his hand for seemingly the hundredth time, his nose scrunched up as he read the typeface over and over.

"Or I could just get some teeth pulled," he hissed as he stuffed it back into his briefcase, ignoring the raised eyebrow from the guy from marketing, Kawamura, sitting across from him in the lunchroom at Fujiyama International.

"Whatever it is, unless they're divorce papers, it can't be that bad, Yahaba-kun," Kawamura offers.

Shivering at the idea of being married at this point of his life, aged a tender twenty-three, Yahaba shook his head. "Nothing so dire. My high school wants to do a five year reunion."

Kawamura winced. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to go, either."

With a resigned sigh, Yahaba shook his head. "I kind of have to. I was the captain of the volleyball team and on the student council. If I don't, I'm pretty sure my class president will come and murder me in my sleep. He may be small, but he's scary when he's worked up."

Nodding in sympathy, Kawamura slid a cookie across the table towards Yahaba. "You need this more than I do."

Yahaba accepted the cookie and nibbled on it, wondering how he was supposed to banish this knot of dread in the pit of his stomach. But it lingered for the rest of his day at work and the entire ride home on the train. The first sign of relief came when he slipped out of his shoes and lay face-down on the couch.

He drew a heavy breath and bellowed into a throw pillow, " _Fuck_."

"Language!" Kaori called from the kitchen.

"Sorry," came Yahaba's smothered and not-entirely-contrite apology. He merely burrowed further into the warm embrace of the couch cushions until his retreat was interrupted by the sharp sting of something hitting his backside.

Limbs flailing, Yahaba sprang to his feet, only to find his mother twirling a wooden spatula in her hand and sporting a very unhappy expression. "I don't know what's been up with you for the past few days, but this bad attitude of yours needs to stop."

Rubbing his eyes, Yahaba groaned. "Sorry. It's just . . ." Unable to piece together a reasonable explanation for his admittedly sour moods since _it_ came, he settled on taking the wadded up letter from Seijou out of his pocket and handing it to Kaori.

After reading it, Kaori hissed and murmured, "Yeah, that'll do it." She folded it back up and returned it to Yahaba's limp hand. "See if Watari-kun will go with you. You two were always friends."

"I don't want to ruin it for him," Yahaba replied, shaking his head. "He loves this kind of junk. I'll just have to tough it out and escape as soon as possible. Maybe nobody remembers and it'll be fine."

Kaori gave him a pinched smile. "Maybe you can find someone to bring as a date. Mai-chan would probably go if you asked her. Or maybe Takeko-chan."

Yahaba wrinkles his nose. "I'm not taking a girl cousin to my class reunion just to make people forget I'm gay, Mom. I'm not that pathetic."

 

 

Adjusting the tie strangling the life out of him, Yahaba stared at the burning gym lights he hadn’t seen in years and though, _Wow, I really am that pathetic_.

To his right, Mai, his slightly older cousin, slapped at his hand. “Stop it. If you don’t act like you belong here, they’re going to eat you alive.”

Yahaba fought the urge to growl at Mai as he grumbled, “I _don’t_ belong here. Hence why I was hoping this building would burn down and this would all be unnecessary.”

“Shut _up_ ,” she hissed. “People can hear you!”

“I’m pretty sure you’re louder than me, Mai-chan,” Yahaba did finally growl as he dodged her elbow.

He looked around, and as Mai had predicted, there were a number of people with their attention pinned on Yahaba. Swallowing around his own distaste for his only female cousin his age who didn’t have the signature Yahaba silver-blond hair, he pasted a smile on his face and planted a kiss on her cheek. “It’s game time,” he whispered in her ear.

Like a switch, Mai’s posture draped as she melted into his side. “Thank you for bringing me to meet your friends, Shigeru,” she fawned. “I always wondered what your precious high school was like.”

“Overdoing it,” he hissed through teeth snared into a smile. “Of course!” he added more loudly. “Anything for Mai-chan.”

Behind them, there was a loud snort from a voice Yahaba could identify while in the dregs of a coma. “You gotta be kidding.”

Managing not to wheel around and glare at his old nemesis, Yahaba curled his lip and sneered, “Don’t be jealous just because you don’t have a date, Kyoutani. It’s not my fault no one will date you. You have genetics and yourself to blame for that one.”

When Mai’s foot landed square in the middle of Yahaba’s shin, he turned to bark his displeasure at her, only for his jaw to drop when he saw the stunning brunet on Kyoutani’s arm.

The non-female sort of brunet.

Around Yahaba’s height, this man was probably the prettiest person Yahaba could recall seeing in real life not named Oikawa Tooru. Sharp green eyes were framed by strong, well-trimmed brows and just enough fringe to soften his face. His jaw was square and very _male_ , and Yahaba squelched the urge to sit on the floor and throw a tantrum that this person even deigned to look at Kyoutani, let alone date him. In public. On purpose.

“Ken?” the man asked with a raised brow as he turned to Kyoutani. “Who’s your friend?”

“That —” Kyoutani spat, “— is my asshole volleyball captain.” Directing his attention to Mai, he added, “And that is his cousin pretending to be his date.”

Yahaba blanched. “Kyoutani, not so loud. I am _not_ dealing with your bullshit tonight. Not when I don’t even want to be here.”

“Then don’t come,” Kyoutani said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re a pretty good liar. I think you could weasel your way out of something stupid like this.”

“God I hate you,” Yahaba said to himself as he turned away from Kyoutani and Mr. Adonis and said to Mai, “Let’s go find some actual _people_ to talk to. And where the _hell_ is the booze?”

Mai slapped the back of his head and directed him away. “Behave, or the thing you didn’t want to happen is going to happen.”

“Don’t care.” Yahaba identified the snack tables and dragged them both in that direction. “This is so much worse than I thought it would be.”

Collecting an array of snacks, Mai shuffled Yahaba along to the long-awaited spread of alcohol meant to lubricate the attendees through this undesirable experience. And Yahaba needed it more than any of them. He reached out and swiped at a bottle of sake, ignoring the protest from the attendant, and dragged both of them to an empty table in the corner.

Yahaba didn’t bother speaking until he drained a third of the bottle and inhaled the entire plate of food. Mai watched him with unmasked horror as he consumed, but he didn’t care. She was only there because her mother owed his mother a favor, not because of any particular familial bond or concern. He couldn’t say the feeling wasn’t mutual, either, even if his own enmity was more akin to bitterness about her academic prowess during school when he had studied his ass off just to finish in the top twenty of his batch.

Halfway through the bottle, Yahaba wanted to shrink inside his suit jacket when he saw Watari wafting over to their table on a cloud of something that reeked of nostalgia. “Shigeru! You RSVPed, but I wasn’t sure you’d come. You didn’t seem like you wanted to come when I talked to you on Monday.”

“Still don’t,” he murmured, his cheery façade melted away by the burn of the alcohol in his belly. “This is hell, Shinji, and you are the smallest, baldest devil on the fucking planet.”

Watari’s hand flew to his already-evaporating hairline as he blushed. “I’ll just leave you alone, then.” He nodded to Yahaba’s ‘date.’ “Mai-chan.”

“Shinji-kun,” Mai replied with a genuine smile that made Yahaba want to throw the bottle. Watari always did attract genuine pleasantness, even from the most unlikely of sources. A fact which was verified when Watari’s next stop was to Kyoutani and his date, which earned him a dazzling white smile from the mystery hunk and a twitch of the lips from Kyoutani.

Mai nudged him under the table with her ankle. “If you don’t stop glaring at them like that, everyone’s going to know.”

“They already know,” Yahaba slurred. He waved a hand around the room. “Can you not see how many people keep looking over at us with that weird face.”

She rolled her eyes and punched his knee. “That’s because you’re acting like a jackass, Shigeru. Now stop drinking before you embarrass yourself all the way to your tenth!”

Yahaba’s suddenly heavy head lolled back as he stared at the ceiling and prayed, “Please let me get hit by a car before then. I don’t deserve this.”

“God, you’re a whiny piece of shit when you’re drunk,” Mai said as she ripped the bottle away from him and took a long drag of it herself. “Can we just get the mingling out of the way and leave?”

“Fine.” Dragging himself onto unsteady feet, Yahaba let Mai drag him around to chitchat with anyone and everyone in their path, even though she didn’t know any of them. He was begrudgingly impressed with her ability to pretend like she remembered them from one of “Shige-chan’s” many fond stories about them, despite his utter lack of knowledge of most of them outside of a name, and sometimes not even that much.

It was inevitable that they’d come in close proximity to Kyoutani and Nice Chin Guy again, but when they did, Yahaba couldn’t quell his reaction to Kyoutani’s disproportionally attractive date’s sheer magnificence. “Dude, what the hell?” He asked, vaguely aware of Mai’s dismay beside him. “Seriously, what the actual hell? Kyoutani is an angry doormat with legs. Why are _you_ with him?”

The guy blinked at Yahaba’s question and shrank into himself a little before offering a hand. “Um, Sasaki Ichirou,” he offered. “Nice to meet you.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Kyoutani said with an icy glare at Yahaba. “If you don’t shut up, Yahaba, I’m going to make you regret it.”

“Like you could possibly make me hate this place more than I already do, so kindly fuck the fuck off so I can get out of here.” With that, Yahaba plowed past Kyoutani, squaring his shoulder to send the other sprawling as he stomped by.

However, Kyoutani always did have strong legs and Yahaba was sharply reminded how much he’d drunk as he bounced off of Kyoutani’s solid frame and dropped to the floor in a graceless heap.

Above him, Mai nudged him with a toe and asked with a chortle, “Are you dead? If you are, I so call dibs on your Pillows collection.”

“I hate you, Mai.” Yahaba groaned as he pried himself off of the floorboards, hoping they would split open and swallow him. “I hate you, Mr. Hot Guy.” As he reached his feet, he stood toe to toe with Kyoutani and said, “And I really, _really_ hate —”

His words were drowned by the vomit that flew out of his mouth, all over the front of Kyoutani’s suit.

“I need new relatives,” Mai grumbled as she rolled up the program in her hand and slapped the back of Yahaba’s aching head. “Are you done being a disgusting clown now, or can I go home?”

Sasaki’s mouth hung open as he looked at the state of his date and then at Yahaba. “Maybe we should go, Ken.”

Kyoutani ignored Sasaki and looked at Mai. “You wanna take the other arm?”

“Fine.” Between the two of them, they shepherded a woozy Yahaba outside to wait for a taxi. Mai told Kyoutani she was fine on her own, but Kyoutani only snorted and sat on the curb next to them until their ride arrived.

Yahaba’s stomach hurt. His head hurt. His knees hurt from where he had fallen. But even worse than that, his pride throbbed with the mortal wound it had received, and he couldn’t even deny that he had fallen on his own sword in there.

“Please let me die,” Yahaba whined as he slumped into Kyoutani. “’S not fair.” A rough hand began to stroke his hair, and Yahaba leaned into the contact, whimpering in a mix of content and resignation.

“Shut up,” Kyoutani growled, the sound far too loud in Yahaba’s aching head. “You’re better than this.”

“’M not.” Yahaba’s eyes burned, and he couldn’t even muster the energy to be embarrassed. “I just wanted to get this over with and get over high school. Why do they make you go back?”

Mai was silent beside them, and Yahaba almost yearned for one of her snotty remarks to alleviate his mood. Maybe being angry at her was better than this . . . this.

“No one makes you do anything you don’t want to do,” Kyoutani replied quietly. “It was true then, and it’s true now.”

“Well, I don’t wanna think about _you_ anymore, but here we are,” Yahaba spat as he buried his face in his knees. “Why did you have to show up?”

Kyoutani was silent for a long while, and Yahaba wondered if he was actually contemplating the answer. When Kyoutani spoke next, though, Yahaba almost fell into the gutter as he heard the words. Thought he misheard the words. “I came here for you.”

Finally, Mai reminded them of her presence. “I’m sorry, what? You hated him.”

Looking back and forth between Mai and Yahaba, he said, “You didn’t tell her.”

“Of course I didn’t tell her!” Yahaba snapped. “Why would I tell one of the people who hates me the most about the worst moment of my _life_?” He stood, aiming to march away from the who current banes of his existence, but his inebriation and a crack in the pavement had other ideas as he fell face-down onto the sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are Very Bad for Yahaba right now, and he's going to have to deal with the consequences of that. Stay tuned.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Kyouhaba Week Day 3

The light filtering through his eyelids hurt, but nothing compared to the agony that assaulted his nerves when he opened his eyes. “What the fuck?” he choked past the cotton that felt like it was lodged in his throat. “What happened?”

“You got drunk and fell on your face.”

The familiar timbre of Kyoutani’s voice made Yahaba bolt upright in the bed he didn’t remember climbing into, only for the room he couldn’t recall entering spun at the motion. “God, why do I feel this crappy?”

“You got drunk and fell on your face,” Kyoutani repeated, his tone slightly more curt. “Idiot.”

“Blow me,” Yahaba grunted as he dropped back on the pillow and pulled the covers over his face. “And go away.”

Kyoutani snorted. “No. I told your mother I would stay with you until she got back.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Yahaba’s throat burned with the effort. “Is there water anywhere?” He heard a rustle of activity before he felt rather that saw Kyoutani loom over him and say, “Here.”

Gulping down three glasses of water in rapid succession, Yahaba began to feel like a human being again. Still gross-feeling, and he was pretty sure he could smell himself, but a person nonetheless.

“Did Mai-chan make it home okay?” he asked, too exhausted to pretend he didn’t feel guilt in roping his cousin into this foolish endeavour.

Kyoutani nodded. “She took the taxi home after we stopped here.”

Yahaba vaguely recognized the hospital about a mile away from Aobajousai, having spent a couple of days caged in its confines after having his appendix removed the year before. “Why did you stay here? What about your guy?”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Kyoutani bit, turning away from Yahaba to thrust open the curtains, almost certainly to torture the room’s bed-bound prisoner. “Sasaki didn’t need my help finding his way home. _You_ did.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yahaba turned away from Kyoutani and burrowed into the covers. “But why did you even bother staying? You hate me and you obviously find me irritating.”

“Right now, Yahaba, you’re not even worth the effort of hating.” Kyoutani ripped the covers off of Yahaba and gestured at his ashen skin and sleep-heavy limbs. “Iwaizumi-san would be ashamed of you.”

“Ha!” Yahaba made a wild grab at the blankets, managing to wrestle one away from Kyoutani’s grasp. “Why the hell not? He can join the club! I’m pretty sure my mother and my cousin are ashamed of me. My father will be when he finds out about this. _I’m_ ashamed of me. Why should he be any different?”

“I don’t get you.” Kyoutani dropped into the chair next to the bed and rubbed his forehead. “I’ve been trying to understand what goes on in that dumb head of yours, and I just don’t get it.”

Yahaba sighed and sank back into his pillows. “Neither do I. But really, if you want to leave, I can be a sorry pile of shit on my own. They have nurses for that.”

“Language, Shigeru,” Kyoutani mocked in a startling facsimile of Kaori, and Yahaba couldn’t help but laugh, despite it making his ears ring.

He huffed. “She still does that.”

“I figured.”

They sat in a peaceful silence, Yahaba giving up on his quest to chase away Kyoutani’s presence. These were the moments he wished he could remember. When Kyoutani wasn’t being obstinate or contrary, but mellow and _there_. He knew there was little he could do to express his regret at how he had acted at the reunion, so he didn’t. Kyoutani knew; he always did.

A half hour later, Kaori arrived with her hair askew and her eyes puffy with sleep. “I turned off my ringer, Shigeru, I’m so sorry!” She threw her arms around her son and squeezed him until he was sure he peed himself just a little. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah, Mom, I’ll be okay.” Yahaba groaned as he was released, relieved to be able to draw a full breath again. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes. “You need help, dude. If this is how you handle something stupid like a reunion, you’re in trouble.”

Kaori straightened and stared down Kyoutani. “Kentarou-kun, what happened? You never said, but I think I have a right to know.”

Yahaba cringed as Kyoutani related his escapades from the night before in bald, unfiltered detail until he finished up with Yahaba waking up not even an hour before.

Apparently, Yahaba had a broken toe, too. He hadn’t noticed, courtesy of painkillers and Kyoutani’s presence.

Managing a slight smile for Kyoutani, Kaori whispered, “Thank you, Kyoutani-kun. I can stay with him now, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Kyoutani gave her a bow and Yahaba a scoff before taking his leave.

Now alone with his mother, Yahaba had a feeling he was in for the tongue-lashing of his life. However, while preparing for that reality, he did not count on the sound of muffled tears as she buried her face in her hands.

“Mom, please don’t —” His own chest tight with emotion, Yahaba could feel tears burgeoning in his own eyes. “Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it!” she choked. “I don’t know how to help you. I’ve been trying for years to help you get over whatever it is that makes you so miserable all the time when you think I don’t know, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s too hard.”

“I —” Yahaba wanted to assure her that nothing was amiss, to soothe away her hurt with words he couldn’t even begin to formulate, but he didn’t. He owed her that much. “I don’t know, either. I don’t know if it’s in my head or if I’m just human garbage. I just don’t know.”

Kaori swatted his arm with the back of her hand. “None of that. We’re going to figure this out.”

“What about dad?”

The air of hope emanating from Kaori evaporated. “Your father is . . . upset, Shigeru. He’ll need time to get over some things.”

Yahaba wanted to ask but thought better of it when he saw the hard set of his mother’s face. “I’ll try harder. I promise.”

“You’re already trying,” she said with a shake of her head. “You’ve been trying. We just need to try something different.”

“Like —” Understanding flared in Yahaba. “You can’t be serious. Mom, I can’t go see a shrink. If people didn’t talk before, they will then.”

“Then let them.” Kaori took one of Yahaba’s larger hands in hers and squeezed. “You’re more important.”

Yahaba laughed wryly as he looked up at the ceiling. “That’s why Dad’s mad, isn’t it? Because he doesn’t want me to embarrass him anymore than I did when that kid walked in on us at school?”

“We told you that doesn’t bother us!”

“No, _you_ told me that. Not him.” Yahaba sat up in the bed, finally noticing the lingering ache in his foot past the dull throb in the rest of his body. “He’ll deal with it because he doesn’t want to look like a Neanderthal, but you know he hates it. Don’t even lie to me, because I know you know it’s true.”

Kaori squeezed Yahaba’s hand even harder. “Then he can go to hell!”

Surprised at Kaori’s willingness to side with him against his father, Yahaba stared at her like she was a stranger in his mother’s clothing. “I’ll go, Mom, okay. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Just don’t cry anymore, okay? It’s kind of making me feel like a jerk.”

“You are a jerk,” she said with a broken laugh. “But you’re my jerk, and I love you.” Patting the bed next to him, she added, “Now sit still. I’m going to go talk to the doctor and see what ridiculous things your drunken escapades did to your poor foot.”

Alone for the first time since waking up, Yahaba mulled over this blitz of a morning in his head and groaned. His mother was right; he needed help. He wasn’t just scared of failure or what people thought; everyone was like that to some extent. And his sexuality, while contributing to his stress about the other two things, wasn’t it, either.

Whatever it was, though, Yahaba was certain of one thing. Kyoutani knew and probably always did. And that was what urged him to pull his phone off the side table where it had been placed, looking around to make sure no one was looking, and turned it on to send a quick text:

_You’re right. Can we talk?_

 

 

As his good foot tapped an aimless cadence on the floor of the restaurant, Yahaba wondered what idiocy had prompted him to offer dinner as bait to get Kyoutani to help him figure out his stupid head. Judging by his attire at the reunion, Kyoutani didn’t seem to be hurting for money. Maybe he just wanted to see where else Yahaba was capable of losing his mind.

That thought made him say no a little more forcefully than necessary when the server offered the drink menu.

Settling on plain tea, Yahaba drained four cups before Kyoutani deigned to arrive, breathing hard and scowling more than usual. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Kyoutani barked as he ripped open the menu to glare at its contents. “What’s good here?”

Yahaba shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been here.”

Kyoutani fixed Yahaba with a withering look. “Then why’d you suggest it?”

“Why not?”

No rebuttal came as they both flipped through the menu, with Yahaba settling on eel rolls and tempura vegetables, and Kyoutani a safe and comfortable hibachi plate.

They didn’t speak as their chopsticks clicked away the rest of their meal. The only words that left either of their mouths were Yahaba’s request for matcha ice cream for dessert and Kyoutani’s moody chime of, “Same.”

When the meal was finished and paid for, they walked out of the restaurant shoulder-to-shoulder, Yahaba with his hands buried in his pockets and Kyoutani’s balled into fists at his sides. They made it almost a block before Yahaba stopped and said, “This is stupid. Are we going to talk or not?”

Kyoutani shrugged. “It’s your problem. Shouldn’t you be the one talking?”

“I was waiting for you to bring it up!”

“Hasn’t that always been the problem?”

Yahaba opened his mouth to rebut, but nothing would come out. Finally, he crossed his arms and muttered, “I hate it when you’re right.”

Both of them kept walking, though Yahaba wasn’t sure where they were actually headed, as the bus stop was the other way and neither of their houses lay in this direction. But he pressed on because Kyoutani’s steps were sure and solid, and Yahaba could not deny that he had missed that.

“I’m sorry, you know,” Yahaba said. “Back then, I blamed everything on you because you were, well . . . you, and it wasn’t fair.”

“I know you are. I just figured you were doing what you had to do to work things out. I just didn’t think it would take you six years.”

Yahaba’s eyes narrowed. “You’re being awfully reasonable. That Sasaki guy must be a really good lay if you’re this mellow.”

“I wouldn’t know. I never slept with him.”

Yahaba’s broken left pinky toe found the edge of a tree planter as he stumbled at Kyoutani’s denial. “Shut the fuck up. No one has a boyfriend that pretty and doesn’t sleep with him.”

“I never slept with you, did I?”

Mouth snapping closed, Yahaba refused to dignify that with an answer as he marched on, wishing he had thought to bring his pain medication with him to alleviate the throbbing in his cushioned boot. It wasn’t until clammy sweat was starting to sprout on his forehead that Yahaba found the nearest bench and dropped onto it. “Stupid tree.”

“Stupid Yahaba.” Kyoutani bent down and gently pulled off the protective shoe over Yahaba’s injured foot. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was pretty sure everyone involved knew I was an idiot.” Yahaba hissed as the cool evening air raced over his sweaty foot. “I hate this.”

Kyoutani didn’t answer as he adjusted the jarred splint and replaced the boot. “Now, sit for a while until it feels better, and be careful.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Yahaba felt a rush of relief when the brace on his toe no longer pressed painfully into his injury. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Med school.”

Yahaba whipped his head around to gape at Kyoutani. “You went to college? Really? On _purpose_?”

“You never asked.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Yahaba fired, “Who does that, asking ridiculous questions any normal person knows the answer to? Who asks if you’re going to grow an extra head or put racing stripes in your hair like a dumbass? Why would I ever think you’d go to med school?”

“Someone’s adamant about making this about me.” Kyoutani crossed his arms and watched the cars whoosh by, the fringes of his longer hair rustling over his brow.

The serenity of Kyoutani’s expression deflated what was left of Yahaba’s bluster. With a sigh, he leaned over and drooped his head on Kyoutani’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, though. I want you to know that. I had problems then and I still have them now, but I blamed it all on you and you didn’t deserve that.”

“I know.” Kyoutani reached over and ruffled Yahaba’s hair. “Though it made it easier not to beat the shit out of that first year who found us all over each other in the club room and decided the whole school needed to know about it.”

“Ha!” Yahaba shook his head. “I keep thinking I’m hung up on that still, but you know what . . . I don’t even remember the guy’s name.”

“Kiyosuke?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Yahaba wrapped his arms around Kyoutani’s bicep, burying his nose into that old familiar scent he wished he’d never lost. “Kunimi always did say that kid was a gossip. Knew him from Kitawawa Daiichi.”

Kyoutani harrumphed. “Like Kunimi was any better. But Kindaichi was a good kid, and he didn’t like him, either.”

“Yeah, they were all good kids. Not like us.” Kyoutani scoffed, and Yahaba scooted in tighter. “Not like us at all.”

It wasn’t until the sun began to creep down behind the buildings that Yahaba looked around and mentioned, “We should get moving.”

“Can you walk?” Kyoutani stood and offered Yahaba a hand. “If it hurts too much, stop moving right away.”

Gingerly testing out his rebound foot, Yahaba was satisfied that he could make it back to the bus stop without maiming himself or forcing Kyoutani to carry him. “I’m good. Just go slow.”

And slowly they went, taking nearly an hour to amble back to the bus stop, just in time for the last route back to their neighbourhood. They didn’t speak of much more than mundane things like jobs and school until they exited the bus together at Yahaba’s stop, much to his surprise.

“You’re three stops down.”

“I know where I live.” Kyoutani looped his arm through Yahaba’s and leaned in the direction of the latter’s home. “Do I need to tell you where you live, or are you going to work that out on your own?”

“Asshole,” Yahaba hissed under his breath as he took Kyoutani’s lead. “And you never did tell me how you ended up with Ken Doll.”

“Sasaki,” Kyoutani corrected. “And I’m not with him at all.”

Yahaba stopped mid-stride and stared. “What?”

Kyoutani gave a noncommittal half-shrug. “I helped him through kinesiology, and he said he owed me one. He never specified how I could or couldn’t cash in that favor, so he had to be my date to that stupid reunion.”

“If you didn’t want to go, then why bother?” Yahaba not-so-secretly hoped that Kyoutani would elaborate.

But Yahaba wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer he received when Kyoutani did.

“I went because I knew you’d go out of some twisted sense of duty. I knew the minute you hid from me at the store three years ago that you were still all bent out of shape over what happened, about people talking about you. So I went to give them all something else to talk about. How the hell was I supposed to know you’d drink yourself stupid and knock yourself the fuck out on the sidewalk?”

His knees no longer in the mood to cooperate, Yahaba’s steps faltered under the weight of Kyoutani’s confession. “Holy shit, I think I need to sit down.”

In a split second, Kyoutani was steering Yahaba to a nearby tree planter and gently settling him down on the rim of it. “Take it easy, Yahaba.”

“Then don’t say shit like that to me!” Yahaba leaned over and stared at the ground between his feet. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“Someone has to.” Kyoutani sat next to Yahaba, the still-taut muscles in his arms pressing into Yahaba’s side, who had to close his eyes and count to ten to dispel a replay of the vivid dreams he’d had in school (and after) about being pinned down by those arms and driven into the mattress. He shivered at that last thought.

Kyoutani gave him a cagey look. “Are you cold?”

Yahaba gulped. “Not remotely.” His face burning, he stood back up. “Come on. The sooner I get home, the sooner you do, too. You probably have homework to d-do.” He burst into laughter until his chest started to hurt. “Oh my god,” he squeaked. “You actually do homework now.”

“I always did my homework,” Kyoutani explained. “I did it early and handed it in when it was due.”

“Um, what?” Yahaba scratched his head. “But you never showed up for class.”

“I always went to class. I was doing college credits.”

Yahaba’s entire brain felt like melting out of his ears. “I can’t believe this. Why did you never say anything?”

“You never asked.”

“ _We were dating_!” Yahaba snorted. “I shouldn’t have to. We just talked about that.”

Kyoutani shrugged. “No, _you_ talked about that. If you were really interested in me, you would’ve asked me why we were never in the same classes.”

“I —” Shame burned in Yahaba’s belly. “I don’t even know how to answer that.”

“Good.” Kyoutani nudged them onward. “You were always so hung up on what you thought I was doing that I never bothered to correct you. There was no point.”

Kyoutani was right. He was right, and Yahaba hated that he was right. It meant that Yahaba had a lot of mistakes to mull over, along with a very long and heartfelt phone call to make to Watari for the shenanigans at the reunion. About a lot of things, actually.

“God, I was terrible.” He tugged Kyoutani to a stop, lacing their fingers together as he leaned his forehead over Kyoutani’s firm, resilient heartbeat. “I’ll never be able to say how sorry I am.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Yahaba.” Kyoutani’s nose buried into Yahaba’s hair. “I knew what you were like. I could’ve pushed you away, but I didn’t. I knew you had issues, but it didn’t matter.”

Yahaba gave a loud sniff against Kyoutani’s chest. “Really?”

“Hey, I’m not the liar out of the two of us.”

This drew a hiccupped laugh from Yahaba. “Nah, you really aren’t. Just a ninja med student, all sly and full of secrets.”

Looking up to wait for Kyoutani’s denial, Yahaba’s mouth went dry when all he got was an eyeful of Kyoutani’s tongue tracing along his lower lip.

He dropped Kyoutani’s hands in favor of wrenching the two of them together for a kiss filled with six years’ worth of regret and, hopefully, forgiveness.

It wasn’t until they heard someone catcall in the distance that they broke apart, both of them panting for air as they regard each other — Yahaba in relief and Kyoutani with surprise.

“Thank you,” Yahaba said finally. “For coming today. I forgot how much I needed you to deflate me here and there.”

“It was good for both of us,” Kyoutani acknowledged. “Now let’s go. Your mother will be worried.”

Their hands found one another between them as they headed back to Yahaba’s house side by side, and Yahaba knew that the healing he knew he had to do, his long road to recovery, had just begun.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Kyouhaba Week Day 4

Nights out with Kyoutani were rare, as his school schedule demanded most of his attention, but Yahaba liked to think they made them count. Kyoutani would talk about his German shepherd, Denka, and Yahaba complained about how boring his job was. All in all, it was average gossip one might expect between two people who have known each other for a long time.

For two people who used to date, however, it was as stilted and awkward as those first few rounds before two people got to know each other. For them, it was getting to know each other for a second time. Yahaba asked far more questions about Kyoutani, and Kyoutani tutted him every time he produced a half-truth rather than something based in reality.

One thing that was new to both of them, however, were the visits to the psychiatrist. Yahaba didn’t talk about those with Kyoutani, who never asked about them, and he thought it was a good thing. He wasn’t ready to spill those secrets yet, but it was strangely lifting to know someone who wasn’t his mother was there to listen to him when he did.

The call to Watari went about as well as Yahaba expected, with a tongue-lashing he thoroughly deserved, swaddled in genuine concern, roared up at him from below. “I’ll try to get you invited to the next one,” he had warned, “but I don’t know if the rest of the reunion committee will allow it.”

“Meh, fuck ‘em,” Yahaba had replied, not remotely interested in the reunion committee. “But I would very much like to know that I didn’t ruin our friendship.”

“Of course not.” He could almost picture Watari shaking his head. “You’re getting better because you want to, and that’s what matters. And Kyoutani promised to tell me if you ever took a turn for the worse.”

Yahaba scoffed at that. “He did?”

“You know he did.” Watari could barely mask the condescension in his voice as he chided, “No one ever liked you more than he did. He loves you.”

Unable to respond, Yahaba had quickly ended the call, sure that his relationship with Watari was on solid ground. He debated calling Mai, only to brush that thought aside knowing his mother had already apologized to her profusely on his behalf. His . . . everything would just make it worse.

Yet this left Yahaba with a lot to think about. He was still in the midst of rebuilding his relationship with Kyoutani, but the knowledge that Kyoutani hadn’t stopped caring about him in _that_ way, even after Yahaba’s brutal, very public rejection of their relationship after whats-his-name outed them, changed everything.

And while Yahaba would love to say he stopped caring about Kyoutani, one of the things his therapist had expounded was the need to stop lying to himself, even if he lied through his teeth to everyone else. That those lies, wherever they were directed, had very real and unavoidable consequences. Like how Yahaba had loudly declared in a busy hallway that he ‘didn’t swing that way’ while Kyoutani was in earshot, hoping that his power as the volleyball captain would wash away some lowly freshman’s wild claims. The consequence: Kyoutani had been a pain in his ass for an entire year, treating him like the garbage he had acted like for doing that to his face.

Consequences, he knew all too well. Kyoutani would have forgiven him if he had known Yahaba was going to do that, but hearing it for the first time like that would have made anyone bitter. Just like Yahaba’s shenanigans at the reunion had resulted in a loud, angry fight between his parents, and his mother still hadn’t stopped sleeping in the guest room.

But he was going to make things right again, one by one, and he’d take as long as he had to in order to do it.

So, after his conversation with Watari, Yahaba had admitted that he knew how much Kyoutani had still cared and felt bad about how they had slugged out their final year of high school. Kyoutani had given Yahaba a funny look, but he just shrugged off the comment with a curt ‘tell me something I don’t know.’

Yahaba knew it was the first step in forgiveness, and it was something he never wanted to stop looking for from Kyoutani. If not for his ex-boyfriend’s sake, then for his own.

It was that thought that made him get out of bed on days where his limbs felt heavy like lead and ready to sink into the mattress, and dragged him into his therapist’s office even when he would rather puke than talk about his feelings. So he did both of those things every day, regardless of his desire to do so, and before he knew it, they happened with less and less effort.

“You’re looking better,” Kyoutani remarked after going nearly three weeks without meeting up because of finals for him and tax season for Yahaba.

Yahaba sighed. “I feel better. Taking medication makes me feel like a nut, but I’m okay with it when I think about the alternative.”

“Good.” Kyoutani reached over and snared one of Yahaba’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “Just try not to do any more stupid shit. You just got the boot off.”

“Yeah.” He gave Kyoutani’s hand a squeeze before freezing in his tracks. “Hey, speaking of stupid shit . . .” He grinned and enjoyed the flare of dread on Kyoutani’s face. “Let’s go ice skating.”

“You’re right; that is stupid.” Kyoutani glared, and Yahaba pouted, using the same wounded puppy look that had got him nearly anything he wanted as a child. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s hot out, and the ice rink will be nice.” Yahaba leaned into Kyoutani’s side. “I can go by myself, but I really think you’ll want to be there when you see how bad I am at skating.”

Kyoutani gave him a thunderous look before grunting, “Fine. But don’t break your toe, or I’m not carrying your stupid ass to the hospital next time.”

Eyes flying open in shock, Yahaba gaped at Kyoutani. “You carried me? That’s almost a mile.”

“You were hurt, and I figured you wouldn’t enjoy a vomit comet of an ambulance ride.” Kyoutani shrugged like it was the most natural conclusion in the world. “So if you want to do this, don’t break anything.”

Instead of an answer, Yahaba framed Kyoutani’s face in his hands, that grumpy face that carries more irritation than anything, and he kissed him until they both gasped for air. “You never stop surprising me,” Yahaba said as he took Kyoutani’s hand again and headed for the bus stop.

The air inside the ice rink was easily fifteen degrees cooler than the sweltering July heat outdoors. Goose bumps prickled on Yahaba’s skin as they strode over to the rental counter to procure skates and admission. Yahaba made a point of asking for hockey skates, and a grumbling Kyoutani did the same.

Laced up and gingerly walking on the blades, they stepped gingerly onto the ice as Yahaba waited for Kyoutani to fall. However, it never happened as Yahaba took a few cursory strides to remember the feel of ice below him after so long. But not Kyoutani.

With one powerful push, Kyoutani launched out in front of them, flipping backwards in one fluid movement to skate backwards as Yahaba toddled forward.

“What the hell?” Yahaba demanded. “When did you learn how to skate?”

Kyoutani grunted. “I played hockey as a kid.”

“I never knew.”

“You never asked.”

Rolling his eyes, Yahaba groaned, “We talked about this. So many times. You’re supposed to volunteer things I might not be able to guess enough to ask about. Like hockey. Who even plays hockey?”

At that moment, Yahaba’s feet betrayed him and started to slide out from under him. Lightning fast hands dart out to steady him while never breaking stride. “You’re right. You do suck at this.”

“Ugh.” Yahaba shirked Kyoutani’s grasp and slid to a slow halt. “You’re so mean. Why do I even like you?”

“No idea, Princess,” Kyoutani said as he swooped around and came up behind Yahaba. “Now, do what I tell you to do before you bruise that pretty little ass of yours.”

In a much more patient voice than Yahaba would have expected, Kyoutani coaxed him through the basics of skating strides and keeping balance, holding him up when he started to topple and propelling him faster on the straightaways so he could feel the chilly rush of the on-ice speeds that were only a fantasy at Yahaba’s current skill level.

After an hour and a few epic spills, Yahaba bent over wheezing, clutching his aching thighs. “Shit, I am really out of shape.”

“You should work out more.” Kyoutani sat on a nearby bench and started to unlace Yahaba’s skates. “You always felt better after a good sweat.”

Nodding, Yahaba admitted, “It’s just hard to get the energy up to go to the gym sometimes. When I feel like it, I don’t have time, but when I have time, I don’t feel like it.”

“Then I’ll take you anytime we can both get out.” Kyoutani finished prying off both of their skates before picking up Yahaba’s formerly injured foot. “How are your toes and your ankles?”

Wiggling the digits in question, Yahaba said, “Good. Sore, but good.”

Despite that, Kyoutani’s hands rubbed deft little circles all over Yahaba’s feet, eliciting a long, lazy sigh as their owner melted into the bench. “That’s so nice.”

“Gotta take care of you,” Kyoutani said. “You don’t do enough for yourself, you know. It’s okay to be a little selfish.”

Yahaba snorted. “Yeah, no. I had enough of being selfish. You were there, and I’m pretty sure me throwing up on you was enough evidence of that.”

Kyoutani’s gaze pinned Yahaba dead in his tracks, a borderline snarl harkening back to their high school days as he glared. “No, that was illness. There’s nothing selfish about being sick.”

“I —” Yahaba gulped past a lump in his throat, hand clenching in his lap as he looked away from Kyoutani’s intensity. “It feels selfish. I fucked up a lot of things.”

“So get new things.” Kyoutani grabbed both sets of skates by the laces and held out his other hand to Yahaba. “If you’re trying to scare me away, it’s not going to work. I know you too well for that.”

Unable to respond, Yahaba took Kyoutani’s hand and let himself be led to the desk to retrieve their shoes. They left the rink in relative silence, with the only evidence that they were not indeed at odds once again hanging between them in a tangle of fingers slotted together.

Kyoutani’s demand to know where Yahaba wanted to eat broke the stalemate, and after that, their moments maneuvered back into familiar territory of complaining about school and work, respectively.

At the end of the evening, Yahaba followed Kyoutani back to his small apartment, which he shared with his dad. The elder Kyoutani was in a boat somewhere with his brother, fishing for the rest of the weekend, so it was dark and empty when they arrived. There was not a cushion or shoe out of place that Yahaba could see when Kyoutani flicked on the lights, which didn’t surprise him as much as it might have a few months before. Kyoutani was not the lord of chaos Yahaba had branded him so many years ago, and every surface of this place reminded him of that mistake.

“You want tea?” Kyoutani asked as he straightened their shoes on the mat. “About all we’ve got that isn’t beer.”

Shuddering at the thought of alcohol, Yahaba forced a wobbling smile and said, “Yeah, tea is fine. Thank you.”

As Kyoutani rattled around in the kitchen, Yahaba took the opportunity to glean a little bit more about his boyfriend’s environment. Denka slept on a fluffy dog bed in the corner of Kyoutani’s room, visible only through the cracked door as she paid them absolutely no mind. Yahaba had expected the dog to be like every other one: energetic, excitable, and insistent on joining the gathering. However, she was more like her owner than even Yahaba would have thought possible.

Yahaba had turned his attention to a smattering of sports photos on one wall (hockey and volleyball both), showing the progression of a gap-toothed kid without any evidence of a smile into the fully-toothed and snarling adolescent Yahaba knew so well.

Behind him, Kyoutani cleared his throat. “Anything you want to ask me?”

Mind full of things yet blank on words to express them, Yahaba took one steaming cup and sipped at the too-hot brew. “Did you ever forgive me for that day?”

Kyoutani shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? You didn’t mean it, I know you didn’t, and you’ve been sorry about it since it happened. Being mad about it still would just be an asshole thing to do.”

“But I am an asshole,” Yahaba fired, hiding his face behind his cup to shroud his reddening face. “And so are you.”

A smirk threatening on Kyoutani’s lips, he agreed, “Yeah, we kind of are. Guess that’s why we fit.”

“Yeah.” The breath whooshed right out of Yahaba’s lungs as their eyes met over the rim of the mug. Something crackled in the air between them, and a knot manifested itself in Yahaba’s belly.

He wanted Kyoutani. Wanted that salty mouth all over his body. Wanted to taste everything he could and hoped at least one of them knew how the hell it was supposed to work. Not the sex part; the internet was helpful in its instruction. Yahaba was worried about What Happens Next, that big gray beyond when they became too wrapped up in each other to care about tomorrows.

The idea of giving up that much control of himself scared Yahaba. He had been spending months since the reunion debacle climbing out of that quagmire, and jumping back into it seemed like the antithesis of a good idea. But even as his mouth opened to voice his concern, Kyoutani took their cups and headed for the couch.

Over his shoulder, he called, “You coming?”

Yahaba rushed after him, deeply confused and still a little turned on by the power of that quiet exchange.

They nestled into each other and watched some awful procedural cop drama that Kyoutani couldn’t unglue his eyes from. After that, the programming spilled into talk shows, and Yahaba’s eyes grew heavy with sleep. He could not bite back a yawn as he stretched his limbs.

“You don’t have to leave,” Kyoutani said as Yahaba shakily rose from the couch and headed towards the door. “You don’t have to work tomorrow, and I don’t have school, so you can stay the night if you want.”

Yahaba could think of a number of reasons why he should say no. But the lack of guile on Kyoutani’s face, the way his arm had felt around Yahaba’s shoulders as the Very Obvious Bad Guy had been apprehended after three false leads, and the absence of that crushing loneliness he couldn’t remember leaving him since that fateful day in the hallways at school felt so _nice_.

Even though he had plenty of words to refuse, the only ones that would come out were, “Yeah, I do.”

Kyoutani nodded and led the way into the bedroom, where he rifled through the closet until he produced a worn-out old t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. “Here. These should be okay to sleep in.”

“Thanks,” Yahaba murmured as he looked around the room — anywhere but at Kyoutani. His eyes fell on Denka, who blinked sleepily at him before dropping her chin back on her paws. “I don’t think she hates me, but I can’t tell.”

A soft chuckle rattled out of Kyoutani, making Yahaba turn around in surprise. “If she didn’t like you, you would know.”

“She’s giving me that judge-y cat look,” Yahaba grumbled as he shed his jeans and polo. His gaze never fell away from the dog as he dressed for bed. “She’s going to kill me in my sleep, isn’t she?”

“Maybe.” Kyoutani huffed. He walked over to scratch behind Denka’s ears, rubbing more briskly as the dog leaned into his touch. “Who’s a good girl?”

Denka’s tongue rushed out to lap the side of Kyoutani’s face, and Yahaba’s nerves subsided. He’s not likely to be killed by either of these misunderstood creatures, and the latter did not seem like a bad cuddling companion at all.

But as they settled into bed, Yahaba’s nerves twisted and writhed as their sides touched in the confines of the single-sized bed. This was a bad idea. There was no way Kyoutani meant for them to share this minuscule bed just for sleep, even though sleep was about the only thing Yahaba felt like he could do at the moment.

Yet even as his stormy thoughts brewed, a warm hand slid over his waist and drew Yahaba flush against Kyoutani’s bare chest. “’Night, Yahaba.”

And, with that, the room was soon filled with the soft buzz of Kyoutani’s snores.

Soon, the surprise that Kyoutani had fulfilled his unspoken wishes morphed into an exhausted yawn for Yahaba. Nestling into the warmth of Kyoutani’s chest, he let it seep into every part of him as he succumbed to the most overtly peaceful sense of well-being he’d experienced for as long as he could remember.

The next morning, Yahaba awoke with the sun already high in the sky and streaming through the windows. And also alone. Looking blearily around the room, Yahaba searched for Kyoutani to no avail. Instead, he found his discarded clothing from the night before folded neatly on the desk in the corner.

A frown populating his face, Yahaba dressed and wandered out of the room, only for the scent of cooking food to assault his senses. He followed it to the kitchen, and his eyes bulged when he saw Kyoutani at the range. Shirtless with track bottoms slung low on his hips, Kyoutani pushed something that smelled like heaven around in the frying pan.

Mouth watering from more than prospect of something delicious lying in wait, Yahaba croaked, “Morning.”

“Morning.” With chopsticks, Kyoutani picked long, crisp strips of bacon out of the pan one by one and placed them on a plate, only to turn his attention to a skillet full of scrambled eggs. “I thought you’d sleep later.”

The clock on the microwave said it was barely past eight. “Habit, I guess. But it was nice to get some rest.”

“Good.” Kyoutani turned off the range and turned the eggs over until they gleamed. “Changing surroundings does a lot of good sometimes.”

“You would know,” Yahaba said as he took one of the plates full of eggs and bacon, almost jumping out of his socks when the toaster popped. “God, how do you even deal with that thing?”

“I like toast.” Kyoutani picked up one slice and dropped it on Yahaba’s plate before sticking the other into his mouth. The image made Yahaba squeak out a giggle, which erupted in laughter that made tears pour out of his eyes.

They settled down to eat, using forks instead of chopsticks as Denka trotted into the room to plop down at their feet. Neither were in a hurry to finish, and Yahaba thought to himself that this is what normal people had by default. What they all strove to gain and almost universally had. What Yahaba felt like he’d never have.

Staring at his empty plate, Yahaba could feel his breakfast clamor in his stomach as he ground out, “Why?”

If Kyoutani had any idea what Yahaba meant, he made no sign of it as he cleared away the dishes. But when he came back to the table to drape his arms around Yahaba’s shoulders and hold him tightly, it didn’t matter. He knew what Yahaba felt, even when Yahaba himself didn’t know, and that was the only thing that mattered.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Kyouhaba Week Day 5: Domestic.

The rest of the day flew by in a haze of _them_. Kyoutani cooked meals so they didn’t have to leave the house any more than necessary, and Yahaba loved it. Time not spent lazing on the couch was allotted to Denka, whether it was scratching her belly while she rolled on the floor like a puppy or taking her for a walk before the haze of late afternoon hit.

It wasn’t until the sun started to sink low into the skyline that Yahaba relented to the niggling knowledge that he really needed to get home. He had work in the morning, and Kyoutani had school. And probably school work that he bunked off on in order to spend this warm, listless day with Yahaba.

Their eyes met, and Kyoutani already knew. “Let me get the leash. It isn’t too far to walk.”

“Thank you,” Yahaba said, and he meant it. He didn’t know when Kyoutani had begun to read his mind, but it was a relief to not have to rely on words when neither of them were terribly good at them.

Thumbing the bottle of pills in his pocket Kyoutani had made sure he took on time, Yahaba wondered when the fog had started to lift and the air around him had started feeling less heavy. Was it the pills? Was it the counseling? Was it the change in his own attitude, brought about by hitting an all-time low?

Or was it the man trying to fight off a smile while his dog doused his hand in slobber?

When Kyoutani stood, he frowned as he caught Yahaba staring at him. “What?”

Yahaba couldn’t find the words, so instead he drew Kyoutani close and pressed their mouths together for a long, searing kiss. Breathless, Yahaba rested his forehead against Kyoutani’s, and their eyes met in a moment of understanding. Kyoutani gave Yahaba’s arm a squeeze.

The mood was broken when Denka’s leash wound around their legs as she vibrated with excitement.

“I think she’s jealous,” Yahaba said with a chuckle. “Nobody kisses Daddy but her.”

Kyoutani looks between the two of them and shakes his head. “Nah. She likes you a lot.”

“Really?” On cue, Denka licks a long stripe up the side of Yahaba’s hand before sitting at his feet, her tail flitting back and forth in excitement. “Okay, so maybe she does.”

They left the apartment, walking the couple of kilometers to Yahaba’s house in no particular hurry. As they moved along, they drifted closer and closer until their hands bumped and fingers threaded together. By the time they ambled up to the walkway in front of the Yahaba residence, their shoulders were pressed against each other and their heads leaning into the touch.

However, the mood plummeted when Yahaba spied his father standing on the porch, stone-faced with arms crossed.

“Shit,” he hissed as he nudged Kyoutani. “He is not going to be fun to deal with.”

Kyoutani’s grip tightened around Yahaba’s hand. “Is he still causing problems?”

“Don’t.” Yahaba sighed and reluctantly loosened his hold on Kyoutani before leaning down to scratch Denka behind the ears. “Be a good girl and keep Daddy out of trouble, okay?”

Denka pressed her nose against Yahaba’s hand, melting some of his anxiety as she gazed at him with her large, kind eyes. “See you soon, girl.”

Yahaba straightened and looked at Kyoutani’s hardened jaw. “I’m not afraid of him,” he said, surprised more than anyone that he knew it to be true. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just not make a scene that will make my mother look bad, okay? He won’t if we don’t give him a reason to.”

“I hate this,” Kyoutani growled as he sent a dagger of a glare at Yahaba’s father, Mateo. “He can’t treat you the way he treats you and your mom. It’s messed up.”

Sighing, Yahaba nods. “I know.” He leaned over to peck a kiss on Kyoutani’s lips. “I can handle it.”

Muttering something Yahaba couldn’t hear, Kyoutani walks off slowly, sending many a glance over his shoulder as if Mateo was poised to launch himself at his son and his boyfriend in the street.

Once Kyoutani was out of sight, Yahaba headed up the walkway and up the front steps, dragging his fingers along the nameplate to remind himself that he lived there, too. He had every right to stand in this spot and walk home with whomever he pleased. He had nothing to justify.

“Dad,” he said with a bob of the head as he swept past his father with his head held high. In the genkan, he toed off his shoes, calling a cheerful, “Tadaima!” for his mother’s benefit before jogging up the stairs to take a long, hot shower.

As the water pelted his skin, Yahaba finally started to shake. The anxiety he had swallowed to put on that display, the years of his shadowed sense of self, all of the crying he finally knew his mother did because his father thought he was a disappointment collapsed on his skeleton and dragged the warmth of the past two days down into the drain at his feet. It rolled off his shoulders like water and soaked him everywhere.

Whole body shuddering, he swiped at the faucet and turned off the water, allowing himself to sink to the bottom of the tub and pour out his grief.

Soon there was a soft knock on the door. “Shigeru?” came his mother’s voice, and he knew she was worried.

Yahaba opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a choked hiccup.

“I’m coming in, okay?” she said before the soft click of the door sliding open heralded her entry. He heard her sit on the toilet seat next to the shower, her silhouette backlit by the vanity mirror through the shower curtain. “Are you okay?”

“Why can’t he be happy for me?” The question left Yahaba’s mouth of its own accord, but he didn’t want to take it back. It didn’t matter that his mother could never answer that question in a way he wanted to hear, but it felt good to say it. To place the blame for this tension where it belonged: with his father and his outdated ideals of propriety.

“You know why.” Kaori reached a hand behind the curtain, and Yahaba reached out to grasp it. “But what he wants doesn’t matter. Not if Kentarou-kun makes you as happy as you were when you two walked up.”

“You saw?” Yahaba squeezed his knees together and nudged back the curtain. “Is he going to . . .” He gulped past the words lodged in his throat. Mateo had never once lifted a hand to either him or Kaori, but it had been a while since Yahaba had earned a look that thunderous and wouldn’t rule out a first time for anything.

But Kaori shook her head curtly. “Never. If he so much as lays a finger on you, I’ll kill him.”

“Mom, you couldn’t hurt anyone like that.” Yahaba flinched at the iron in his mother’s voice. At least he thought she wouldn’t before that moment.

Kaori tightened her hold. “But that’s what I told him last night when he was ready to storm off and drag you back home. I meant it then, and I mean it now. If he has a problem with it, he can leave.”

Yahaba’s jaw dropped. He felt a rush of affection for his mother, and heedless of his current state of dress, he lunged forward to snare her for a hug. “I love you,” he gasped in her ear, hoping she never forgot it.

“And I love you.” She kissed his cheek and retreated behind the curtain. “Now, you should probably head to bed. I want you to sleep off this silly idea that your father can make you feel bad about who you are, all right?”

“Okay.”

When the door shut behind her, Yahaba exited the bath and stared at his reflection in the rivulets of mirror exposed by dribbles of condensation. He didn’t inherit much from his mother. He was a head taller than her, could sing where she was tone deaf, and his silver blond hair was fine and soft compared to her thick, black locks.

But as he touched a hand to his chest, he felt her spirit in him behind his loudly beating heart. He didn’t doubt for a moment that he was her son through and through. He might not have been as brave as her in his lifetime, but he wanted to be and that was enough.

He wouldn’t let his words to Kyoutani just be platitude. He would live them until he became that man.

Heading to bed, Yahaba hugged his extra pillow to his chest, wishing it were Kyoutani as he fell into a fitful sleep. The dawn was an unwelcome assault on his bleary eyes, but he was determined to head downstairs to breakfast like nothing was amiss, even if he was red-eyed and exhausted.

At the kitchen table, Mateo sat reading the morning paper, barely looking up from it as Yahaba entered the room. However, as Kaori stirred at a pot of rice, she gave Yahaba a wide smile and said, “Good morning, Shigeru.”

“Good morning, Mom. Dad.”

“You’re running late,” Mateo said flatly.

Ignoring the barb, Yahaba reached into the refrigerator to pour himself a cup of iced green tea. “It’s fine. It’s the slow season, and the boss likes me. Nobody will care if I’m a few minutes late.”

“That’s not the point, Shigeru.” Mateo folds up the paper and drops it on the table. “Personal responsibility is not something you lean on others to achieve. It comes from knowing what must be done and doing it without fail or complaint.”

Yahaba almost spit his tea back into his cup. “Since when have I ever relied on other people to do what I have to do?”

“You don’t even have the guts to confront me face to face.”

Setting down his glass, Yahaba crossed his arms and stared down Mateo, whose accusing gaze made Yahaba’s knees want to collapse, but he willed them straight as he refused to look away first.

There was a loud clatter as Kaori put their breakfast on the table and hissed, “Mateo, that is _enough_.”

The spell was broken, and Yahaba turned to smile at his mother, hoping it looked less pained than it felt. He reached down and snagged a couple slices of meat with his fingers and popped them into his mouth. Swallowing hard, he said, “Tastes great, Mom.”

With that, he strode from the room and all but ran to his stop, for once grateful to head to work on a Monday.

The day clicked by at a quick pace, courtesy of Yahaba eagerly gobbling up the brand new client he’d been assigned to, blazing through almost a week’s worth of work in a single day. Surprised, his supervisor Kusunoki looked over his work three times before nodding in affirmation. “Not a single mistake. I knew there was a reason I liked you, Yahaba.”

“Thank you, sir,” Yahaba replied, relieved his preoccupation with personal drama hadn’t soured either his good work or his goodwill. “Will that be all?”

Kusunoki nodded. “Of course. A young man like you will always have somewhere he’d rather be than work. No wife at home to run away from or kids to clean up after.”

Yahaba chortled. “I don’t think either of those are in my near future. But it’s nice to have a good Monday. Makes the rest of the week seem better.”

“Right you are.” He gave Yahaba a smile and a, “Have a good afternoon, Yahaba-kun.”

Bowing, Yahaba exited at the quickest speed he could politely manage before practically running to the elevator. He didn’t know why, but he really wanted to see Kyoutani, and he knew Kyoutani had a light course load on Mondays. He’d have homework, and that was fine. He just needed to see him. Touch him. Share the couch while Kyoutani pored over his relentless pile of homework.

At the bus stop, Yahaba jogged the short distance to Kyoutani’s apartment. He wasn’t concerned about how out of breath he was when he got there, only that he was there in the ramshackle little _gaijin_ development. He waved at the neighbors as he passed, greeting them until he made it to Kyoutani’s door and knocked.

As the door slid open, he was met by the elder Kyoutani’s surprised expression. “Who the hell are you?”

His gruff greeting about what Yahaba would expect from the Kyoutani patriarch, Yahaba bowed and said, “I’m a friend of Kentarou’s. Is he available?”

Understanding lit in his eyes as he called over his shoulder, “Kentarou! You got a guest.”

“If it’s Sasaki, tell him I’m busy,” came the bellowed reply.

Kyoutani’s father sent Yahaba a questioning look, who mouthed in reply, “Not Sasaki.”

“No, I think this is the one you want to see.” Turning back to Yahaba, the elder Kyoutani held out a hand. “Kyoutani Koutarou.”

Taking the proffered gesture with genuine pleasure, Yahaba smiled and answered, “Yahaba Shigeru.”

Koutarou’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re _that_ one. Kentarou had it bad for you in high school.”

“Dad!” Kyoutani stood behind his father, face burning bright red as he shoe-horned his father away from Yahaba. “Man in your head, remember?”

“Right.” Koutarou gave Yahaba a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

Yahaba gave the man a little laugh. “It’s okay. I already knew that anyway.” He shot Kyoutani a pout. “Be nice to your dad. I like him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kyoutani shuffled his dad away from the door and said, “It’s almost time for your meds, Dad. And don’t forget to eat today.”

Koutarou gave Kyoutani a mock salute and trotted off to do as instructed. Once they were alone, Kyoutani sighed heavily. “Sorry, I should have told you.”

Frowning, Yahaba quirked a brow. “Told me what?”

Kyoutani looked over his shoulder at the door Koutarou had disappeared through and bit his bottom lip. “Dad had an accident at work about five years ago. He was driving a forklift at the factory, and something snapped loose and knocked the lift over. He’s okay physically, but it did something to his head and he hasn’t been right since.”

Yahaba gulped. “That’s terrible. He is so nice, I honestly hadn’t noticed.” He reached out and took Kyoutani’s hands in his. “So you take care of him?”

“I try.” Kyoutani accepted the gesture, even as he looked over his shoulder rather than at Yahaba. “Mom left a while after that. She and him weren’t exactly close, and when he changed, so did she.”

“I —” Yahaba tried to formulate some sort of sympathetic reply, but everything just tasted sour on his tongue. “But he has you, and he seems just fine with that.”

Kyoutani tightened his hold on Yahaba before giving him a slight nod and dragging him into the apartment. In the kitchen, Koutarou waved at them as he held up his pill bottle and shook it for Kyoutani’s benefit. “Took my meds. Eating dinner.”

“Good.” Yahaba watched Kyoutani offer a quavering smile. “Thanks for seeing Shigeru in, Dad.”

Past his sandwich, Koutarou gave a hum of acknowledgement before they slipped back out and into Kyoutani’s bedroom. Once inside, Kyoutani dropped down at his desk and buried his face in his hands. “I worry about him when I’m not here.”

“I can see that.” Yahaba rested his chin on the crown of Kyoutani’s head, draping his arms over his shoulders. “But he loves you, and I can see how much you care about him. That’s what matters, and you do the best you can for him.”

Kyoutani turned in his chair and pulled Yahaba into his lap to snare his mouth for a kiss. Leaning into Kyoutani’s solid warmth, Yahaba straddled his lap and pressed every inch of available flesh against him.

Growling into Yahaba’s mouth, Kyoutani’s hands slid down into the back pockets of Yahaba’s trousers and dug his fingers into the flesh of Yahaba’s bottom. Humming in approval, Yahaba tore his mouth away to bring it to Kyoutani’s ears so he could whisper, “I want you.”

However, as soon as the words left his mouth, Kyoutani was retreating, just as breathless as Yahaba. “Not now, all right? Maybe a little later when Dad’s not awake.”

Part of him disappointed but the rest more than happy to accommodate, Yahaba nodded. “Of course. I should’ve thought of that. I’ll just keep you company, then.”

“That’ll be nice.” Kyoutani stole a quick kiss. “Your dumb hair distracting me while I’m trying to classify various forms of muscle atrophy.”

“Sounds great.”

And great it was. With Yahaba tucked into his side as he flicked through channels, Kyoutani did his homework at a glacial pace as he took more than a few breaks to stop and explain certain muscle groups to Yahaba. Denoting how many nerves lived there as his fingers lightly dragged across the skin.

When Koutarou retired for the night, it wasn’t soon enough for either of them.

This time, Yahaba knew it was right and he was ready. He knew himself and what he wanted, and that Kyoutani was all of it. It didn’t matter what Mateo said or did, Kyoutani was there and he was worth it.

Bit by bit, Yahaba felt his clothing and inhibitions stripped away under Kyoutani’s deft tutelage. He didn’t know or care how his boyfriend learned how to set his blood alight with desire; as long as he didn’t stop, it was irrelevant. They forged their way through their first time together and Yahaba’s first time in general, and as they lay together in the sweating aftermath, Yahaba’s entire skin glowed with the latent sensation of well-being.

“Now that I know why people are always so adamant about getting laid, I might turn into one of them.”

Kyoutani barked a laugh at this and elbowed Yahaba’s ribs. “Any time, Goldilocks.”

Remembering the pseudo-insult Yahaba had hurled at Kyoutani when they were first years, he laughed into his pillow until he could barely breathe. “You’re one to talk,” he wheezed, his amusement spilling out anew at Kyoutani’s pout.

“Shut up.”

“Yada.” Yahaba pulled Kyoutani closer and wrapped his arms around him. “You brought it up.”

“Shut up.”

Nuzzling into Kyoutani’s chest, Yahaba hummed in contentment even as Denka sprang onto the bed to plant herself at their feet. “Yada,” he sighed as his sated body cried out for sleep. Safe in Kyoutani’s strong aura, Yahaba gave it exactly what it wanted.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Kyouhaba Week Day 6: Travel (sort of, but it's a significant theme).

Even the flowers lining the walkway, wilting in the chill of autumn, frowned in disapproval as Kyoutani and Yahaba made trip after trip to the back of a borrowed truck while Kaori and Koutarou chatted on the porch.

Well, only the flowers agreed with Mateo that day.

A few curious neighbors turned out to see why the Yahabas, a mainstay in their neighborhood for decades, were moving, only to congratulate their son on his recent engagement and for taking a brave step forward in his life. Yahaba basked in the glow of their well-wishes, knowing that every word of it made his dad grit his teeth that much harder.

Yahaba knew most of them were just saying what they were saying because it was ‘the thing to do’. But he rarely had to see them as it was and barely ever would after he moved in with Kyoutani, so he didn’t care. The man he was going to spend the rest of his life with was wrestling his plethora of belongings into a truck so they could start their shared life sooner rather than later.

After they packed the truck full and strapped everything down, Kaori pulled Yahaba into a hug and held him tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Yahaba’s voice was thick and cracked as he added, “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“Be happy, sweetheart.” She kissed his forehead. “Be happy, and I’ll feel like the best mother in the country.”

“You got it.”

They parted, and Kaori pulled Kyoutani into an embrace, as well. “Take care of my boy, young man.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kyoutani stood rigid in her arms, but his eyes softened into that pseudo-smile that only a few people ever got to see from him. Yahaba knew it well now, and he looked forward to seeing it over and over for years to come.

They all piled into the truck, and Yahaba leaned out and said to Kaori, “Take care of Karupin for me. I don’t think Denka’s ready for that yet.”

“Of course.”

And to his father, Yahaba gave a bob of the head. “See you, Dad.”

The truck ambled away, and from the driver’s seat, Kyoutani shot Yahaba a concerned glance. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He looked over at Kyoutani, with Koutarou fiddling with the radio dial between them, and smiled at his new family. “More than okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. Yahaba got his shit together, and Kyoutani is a really good boyfriend. I hope you liked the story. I've never really written this pair before, so I hope it isn't garbage, lol.


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